Lost
by LittleApril
Summary: An illusion. It had to be. Middle-earth was fictional. He was fictional. But as his hand gripped mind, and his fingers ghosted over my face, and the hope we had been holding onto had shattered, I knew. I knew then that this was real. Kili/OC
1. Prologue

**_Lost _by_ LittleApril - Prologue_**

_All stories must have a beginning, middle, and closing chapter. _

Green. The world was green and blue, neatly mowed lawn topped mounds with rounded doors, cloudless skies with cool breezes, winding rivers nestled beside broad woodlands, fields and orchards dotted with daisy-yellow and deep red flowers. Marshlands cloaked most of the earth to the east, with settlements and villages dotted through the north. The world was beautiful.

But it wasn't mine. It wasn't _my _world.

My world was filled with towering buildings and skyscrapers, grey skies littered with dark rain clouds, pavements swarming with businessmen and women flitting to and from the offices. My world was a city known for its history. My world was no longer bright. It was filled with routine and exhaustion. It was devoid of little pleasures and recreational activities. My world was slipping, fading behind the veil of lush green fields that now filled my vision, lost in my memory as I came to terms with this dream-state.

For this world, this new world filled with colour and light, could not exist.

It was a world from a children's story, described in detail with fervour.

But as my fingertips ghosted along the blades of meadow-grass, stroking the green leaves in silent amazement, this world, this world filled with mythical creatures and adventure, came to life.


	2. Chapter 1

_Lost _**by_ LittleApril - Chapter One_**

Three weeks. Three long, tiresome weeks. The world around me was fresh and full of life, with rabbits and foxes flitting and prowling through the grasslands, the hot sun of Northfarthing beating down on my back.

Northfarthing. The name of the village was familiar, though I couldn't quite place it. Nor could I answer my biggest question: _what happened?_ The last thing I remembered, before finding myself in this sleepy town, was falling asleep, warm in my bed, in my rented flat in central London. The memory was hazy, as though something was pulling it away from my mind, tugging on it with such force it had slipped from my thoughts with a short-lived battle.

Having found myself lying upon a bed of thick wet grass, I had stared out at the surrounding fields, at the thickets dotted with strawberries and raspberries, and held out my hand, running the pad of my thumb across a particularly plump raspberry. With little pressure, the fruit burst and I watched as the flushed liquid ran down my fingertips and to my wrists. The sweet smell of the berry hit my nostrils, and I looked down at the now ruined fruit in mild surprise. _How was I able to touch and feel these dream objects?_

And then the rain hit. It was cold and harsh against my exposed skin, for I only wore my night clothes, and my bare feet, caked in slick soil and mud, led me east toward a small gathering of lights. There I had met with a woman of small stature, who, after criticising my poor choice of attire for the weather, introduced herself as Maybelle Bolger of Peony End. Her home was a small cottage on the outskirts of tone, built next to the barley fields she tended to, and she lived alone.

Taking pity on my poor state of dress and apparent distress, the woman escorted me to her warm home and once inside, warmed by the heat of the fire, she asked for my story.

I told her as much as I could, though I kept certain bits and pieces to myself. "My name is Hannah," I said, looking the old woman in the eye.

"And where is it you're from?" asked Maybelle, having muttered something about queer names.

And that was when it occurred to me. Her small stature, hair on her bare feet, the greenery, the homes built into the hillsides, the familiar sights and sounds. _But it couldn't be real._ It just couldn't be. And so I chose my words carefully, biting my bottom lip to keep from spurting out the truth. "I'm not sure where I'm from." My answer was brief and brutally direct. "I'm lost."

* * *

_"Come along, girl. We haven't got all day."_

Maybelle Bolger was a kind hobbit, and she granted me free board and food provided I tend to her flowers and crops, watering the rose and blackberry brushes. Though small, her house homed two bedrooms. Mine was the smaller of the two, with nothing more than a bed and dresser inside. When not working for my board, I entertained myself by asking the hobbit questions concerning her life in the shire, and of her estranged relatives.

"Honestly," huffed the woman, tutting and heaving a sigh. "Do your questions ever cease, girl? I have told you of my relatives. Clara and Hugo, and Arnor and Nora. What else must you know? How far did you travel to get so lost in this part of the Shire? I've never met a hobbit quite so confused!"

At this, I frowned.

_That_, of course, was the other thing.

Having arrived in the Shire, in the world of Tolkien's, dazed and confused, I had found that I was no taller than Maybelle. My once-upon-a-time heigh of five feet and four inches had been reduced to, well, for lack of a better term or estimation, the size of a hobbit! My nightclothes, the clothes I had travelled in, were now far too large and fell off my minute frame. Thankfully, Maybelle had taken pity on me and loaned me some of her unwanted clothing. My daily attire now consisted of jade green trousers which itched at the ankles, and a large white blouse which I had cinched in with a thin oak-coloured leather belt. My feet, hairless and unused to traipsing over the marshlands uncovered, had remained quite small in size, and fit quite nicely in a pair of brown leather boots that had been collecting dust in the aforementioned dresser.

" - Clara, of course, wasn't too happy about this! Oh, no, not at all. She and Hugo had wanted to find home and work elsewhere, you see, and had travelled up and down Westfarthing, only to find themselves at Bag End with no food or shelter for the evening. Well, Clara wasn't happy about this, and she and Hugo-"

"What did you say? Bag End?" _Had it been there all along? Just over the hill and a slight stretch out of my reach? _

"Bag End," repeated Maybelle, huffing at my apparent ignorance. She muttered something under her breath and continued popping chopped vegetables into the pot atop the stove. "At Bagshot Row. It belonged to Belladonna and her husband, Bungo. Their son owns it now. A nice fellow he is, too. Very polite. He, too, likes his own company."

I pretended to ignore the jab at my being there.

"His name?" I asked, suddenly excited. Butterflies erupted in my stomach, and I could hardly sit still.

"Bilbo. Bilbio Baggins. That's who you'd find at Bag End."

My hands began to shake, and, suddenly, without warning, memories flooded back to me. Christmas had passed, and the highly anticipated film had been released no more than two weeks prior to the festivities. I had walked past shop window posters for the film, had expressed my excitement with fervour, and had watched the film once after work one Friday evening. And I whispered the words to myself, biting back a shaky laugh at the revelation. "The Hobbit."

"Yes. Yes. Bilbo Baggins_ is_ a hobbit. And a very nice hobbit he is." She must have noticed my excitement. "Now don't go thinking that you'll go off marrying one another," cut in Maybelle, "that hobbit likes his privacy-"

"Where is Bag End?" I interrupted her speech with my question, already tying the laces on my boots. "How do I get there from here?"

Maybelle tutted and held her hands up in the air, clearly exasperated. "What have I just told you, child? Master Baggins doesn't like to be caught off guard! He shoos away his visitors. You can't just go marching over there-," but having realised that I was quite serious about my question, the female hobbit relented and shook her head at me. "What an odd hobbit you are, Han. Bag End," she said, "is a Smial tucked into the hillside. It's on the North side of Hobbiton. Follow the path leading from The Hill Road. You'll find Bilbo Baggins there."

I smiled and wrapped my arms around the woman, startling her. "Thank you so much for your kindness, Maybelle," I whispered, stepping back. I hurried to the door, staring off into the distance where I knew Westfarthing lay.

Maybelle's final question knocked me off balance, and, surprised, I turned to face her.

"Will you be coming back, child?" she asked, gazing at me with that odd look of hers. It made me feel as though I'd done something terribly wrong, and then it hit me. I was leaving her alone. This house would be empty. The crops would still need tending to, and I was running away at the first chance at adventure.

I was rooted to the spot. "I'm not sure," I admitted, now feeling slightly sheepish. "I would like to. Perhaps, if I get the chance to, I will."

And without warning, Maybelle turned on her heel and left the foyer of her small, little cottage.

Alarmed at her silence, I frowned and took one slow step forward, hoping to find out what was going on, when the woman returned with two large pieces of emerald and coffee coloured cloth in her hands. "Here," she said, handing them over to me. "Two of my finest travelling cloaks. May they suit you well."

"Thank you," I said, surprised at her kindness.

"Of course. Now off with you, girl. And let it be known that I told you so. Mister Baggins won't appreciate unexpected company."

A smile pulled at my lips, and I nodded my head in farewell, exiting the cottage, walking along the path beside the fields and winding river, ready to make the stretch across the fields and hills toward Westfarthing.

* * *

**AN: Thank you to everyone for your kind words regarding this story. **

**In the next chapter, you can expect lots of Kili and Fili, and the meetings between Hannah and the other characters. If you're interested in seeing more of this story, please review, favourite and follow! **


	3. Chapter 2

**_Lost _by_ LittleApril - Chapter Two_**

Four hours of trekking over marshlands. It was exactly as it was in the films - breathtaking greenery highlighted with yellows and oranges, murmurs from nearby hobbits carrying out their daily tasks and chores, Bag End just visible over the hills. As I neared the northern side of Hobbiton, growing closer to the Baggins' household with each heavy footfall, my heart jumped into my throat. _Finally,_ I thought. _Something I recognise. _

Bag End was beautiful in its appearance. A rounded door painted emerald green with circular sash windows on either side of it. Vines of ivy crept along the smial's fascia, twisting and tumbling toward the top of the front door. In front of the house was a stone bench nestled between dense rose bushes; mismatched flag stones paved the pathway from the house leading to the gravelled road. In short, Bag End was beautifully charming. And I fell in love with it immediately.

It was then that I came to the sudden realisation… _What was the date?_ I had never been too familiar with the dates and times of the story's events, and it was entirely possible that Bilbo and the company of dwarves had already started their quest. Was my dream state set in the film prequel or in the trilogy? I tried not to dwell on that thought, though, as I neared the house of Baggins. A smile lit up my face as I drank it all in, breathing deeply as the scent of rose plants tickled my senses.

My eyes snapped open and I focused upon the woodwork of the door.

_There was no mark of Gandalf's. _

My feet ached as I stepped forward, peering through the windows of the small home. The boots I had borrowed from Maybelle were tight around the heels, and I winced trying to dispel the pain. It didn't work. Now with a frown on my face, I jumped as the door to the home opened, and Bilbo Baggins himself walked out of the house. Catching my eye, the hobbit held up his pipe in silent greeting, and moved to sit upon his stone bench. In response, my brow furrowed.

"Good morning," said Bilbo, eyeing me with suspicion. I couldn't blame him. I would have been suspicious, too, if a strange hobbit-woman was loitering outside of my home.

I swallowed, willing my voice to work. "Yes," I said, not knowing what else to say. What could I say? This Bilbo Baggins was the spitting image of Martin Freeman, the man who had played Bilbo in the most recent film adaptation. I blinked at the realisation. "Good morning."

The hobbit cocked his head to the side, surveying me in silence. "Do I know you?" he asked, puffing on his pipe.

Before I could answer, before I could come up with some intelligible answer, I was interrupted by a very familiar face cloaked in grey robes. The colour of his long beard matched his clothing, and a slate grey wizard's hat sat upon his head. The wizard turned to me before he addressed the hobbit, interest apparent in his gaze, before he, too, turned to the hobbit. And with a twitch of his lips, he watched as the hobbit's pipe smoke transformed into a fluttering wisp of a butterfly and flew directly toward the hobbit's nose.

Bilbo Baggins sputtered and opened his eyes, glaring at the wizard with undisguised annoyance. "Good morning," said Bilbo, echoing his earlier words.

I stayed five feet away from the two, putting enough distance so I could listen to the conversation, recall the script from the film, and pretend to be extremely interested in a nearby apple tree. I rested my hand on the trunk of the tree, feeling the rough bark beneath the palm of my hand, and waited.

"What do you mean?" rumbled Gandalf, who was, like Bilbo, the spitting image of his onscreen counterpart.

It was then that I was truly convinced that I _had_ to be dreaming.

Gandalf continued his questioning. "Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean it is a good morning whether I want it or not?" The wizard gazed expectantly at the shorter male. "Or," carried on Gandalf, holding his staff in his hands, "perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning? Or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?"

Bilbo, after a short pause, said, "All of them at once, I suppose."

And then the wizard turned back to me. "And you?" called Gandalf, turning to face me now. "Do you find it to be a good morning?"

I couldn't help but widen my eyes. I fumbled for words. "Well, yes," I said, floundering. What was I supposed to say? This wasn't from the script. I wasn't supposed to be there. "It is a good morning."

The wizard nodded, turning back to Bilbo with a look of slight disappointment.

"Can I help you?" questioned Bilbo, and he directed his words to the both of us.

Gandalf's stare was unwavering. "That remains to be seen. I," began Gandalf, and I mouthed the words silently to my self, "am looking for someone to share in an adventure."

The pipe fell from Bilbo's mouth, and, from my place beside the tree, I watched as he displayed his unease with the conversation. "An adventure?" he repeated, shaking his head. "No," he said. "I don't imagine anyone west of Bree would have much interest in adventures." And with that, he stood up and made to walk inside his home, away from the bumbling wizard and the odd girl loitering outside his hobbit hole. "Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things." He collected his post from his letterbox, and turned back to his front door. "Good morning."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at his words.

The rest of the conversation played out exactly as it had in the film. Gandalf strode forward and called the hobbit on his lineage, calling out to the hobbit's supposed inner love of adventure and exploits. The wizard introduced himself as Gandalf the Grey, and Bilbo, excited at the revelation, began exclaiming about Gandalf's prowess with fireworks.

"And that's decided," stated the wizard, turning his back on the house. "It will be very good for you. And most amusing for me. I shall inform the others."

"Inform the who? Wha-? No. No. We do not want any adventures here. Not today. I suggest you try over the hill. Across the water. _Good morning_."

But Gandalf had already turned away, walking toward my area by the tree. As the door to the house shut, Gandalf sighed and stepped forward once more, engraving his mark into the wood. Before I could stop it, a small laugh escaped my throat. I had always found that part rather amusing.

The laughter died in my throat as Gandalf turned to face me.

"Yes, my dear," murmured Gandalf, as he strode past me, slow and steady. "I do believe there is room for one more for dinner. Would you care to join us? I believe you have quite the story to tell, and I would be most interested in hearing it."

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I found myself knocking on the door of Bilbo Baggins' home at a quarter to six that evening.

* * *

I was the first to arrive. I had walked through Bag End for hours, watching and learning the ways of the people and their lives. The emerald cloak Maybelle had gifted me was draped over my shoulders, fastened together with a silver brooch I had found clipped to the edge of the material. The brooch was of a small, intricately designed eagle with what looked like tiny diamonds encrusted in the metal for the eyes. I had stared at the clip for at least ten minutes, in awe of its beauty, wondering if Maybelle knew that she had given me such an item of value.

Standing outside of the front door, I waited. _Who was the first dwarf to arrive?_ I couldn't remember. My mind had gone blank. It was only when I saw him that I knew.

Dwalin nodded his head once in greeting to me, and stepped toward the door, tugging on the pull lever that rang the bell. It was obvious that he had been expecting me, just as I had been expecting him. Had Gandalf informed him that a female hobbit would be joining them for dinner?

Before I had chance to question him, the door opened and Dwalin bowed low. "Dwalin," he introduced himself, his voice rough. "At your service."

I stared at Bilbo, quite amused as he went to fasten his robe, and nodded my head in greeting. "Han," I offered by way of explanation. It was a name Maybelle had approved of, the shortened version of my Christian name. It was what I had been going by for the past few weeks. Or minutes, I mused, considering how I was convinced this was all a dream.

"Bilbo Baggins, at yours. Do we, uh, know each other?"

Dwalin took that as his cue to enter, and I eagerly followed him inside. I was not dressed for the cool Spring evening weather. "No," said Dwalin, as though it was obvious, and he moved inside to find his place in the kitchen. "Which way, laddie? Is it down here?"

"Is what down _where_?"

The dwarf looked at the hobbit expectantly. "Supper. He said there would be food. And lots of it."

"He said?" repeated Bilbo, mightily confused. "_Who_ said?"

* * *

We found ourselves sat at the table, Dwalin happily eating the meal that was set out in front of him. I hadn't the heart to tell him that it wasn't his to eat, and Bilbo sat, quite upset, in his seat. We sat in silence, the only sound being Dwalin's jaw clicking with each mouthful. With his mouth full of fish and chicken, the dwarf turned to the hobbit and asked for more. Bilbo, ever the gracious host whether he was expecting visitors or not, stood up from the table and brought over a second plate of food. He tucked one of the rolls into his robe pocket for safe keeping, and I had to praise him for that. He would be eaten out of his pantry in a mere few minutes.

Speaking of….

It wasn't long until the door rang for a second time. I had been picking at the food on my plate, enjoying the taste of the fish and the buttery potatoes, trying not to be so disgusted with the way Dwalin ate his meal. The noises were grotesque.

"It's just that I wasn't expecting company," began Bilbo, choosing his words carefully. He hovered to the right of us, biting his bottom lip.

And that was when the doorbell rang for a second time.

"That'll be the door," growled Dwalin around a mouthful of roll and potatoes.

Balin had arrived. As the two brothers greeted one another with the butting of heads, I had to stop myself from choking on my food. The look of confusion and distaste on Bilbo's face was absolutely priceless.

The two dwarves moved toward the pantry to satisfy their never-ending hunger whilst I remained at the table, wondering what on earth was going to happen to me once Gandalf and Thorin arrived. Why had Gandalf invited me here? I was no one in this world, in this dream-state, I was nothing. I didn't exist. And yet the food settled my stomach and the mulled wine quenched my thirst.

The doorbell chimed for a third time that evening. And from my place in the kitchen, I was able to hear the ongoing conversation between the home owner and the newest arrivals.

_"Fili."_

_"And Kili."_

_"At your service," _the two dwarves bowed low, smiling.

"You must be Mr. Boggins!" announced Kili, and I was able to detect Bilbo's frustration all the way from the kitchen.

"Nope!" cried Bilbo. "You can't come in. You've come to the wrong house." And with that, the hobbit attempted to shut the door.

"What?" interrupted Kili, stepping forward, stopping the door from closing. "Has it been cancelled?"

"No one told us," said Fili, looking at his brother for confirmation.

"Cancelled?" began Bilbo. "No. Nothing's been cancelled-"

It was Kili who spoke. "That's a relief!" And the two dwarf princes entered the house, trekking the mud from their boots into the carpet. "It's nice," complimented the younger of the two, "this place. Did you do it yourself?"

But before Bilbo had chance to thoroughly reprimand the dwarf for ruining his mother's glory box, Dwalin grabbed the two dwarfs. "Fili. Kili. C'mon," and he dragged the two into the kitchen to help prepare the food.

It was then that the two newcomers spotted me sat by the stove, a piece of roll in my hand. I hastily chewed and swallowed and took a large gulp of my drink.

They were beautiful.

Fili with his golden hair and braided beard. His jaw was angular, his frame stocky, and his eyes were absolutely breath-taking and full of warmth. He had a large nose with a well trimmed moustache tucked underneath it, and his clothing was similar to his brother's in style. Fili reminded me of a majestic lion, ready to pounce if need be, ready to protect his pride if and when he had to.

And then there was Kili…

If Fili was a lion, Kili was a black wolf.

With long, dark, tangled hair that brushed past his shoulders and to his chest, the youngest of Thorin's nephews stared at me in surprise. He, at least, had not been warned of my arrival. His stare did not waver, even when Dwalin placed his hand on his shoulder, and he continued to look down on me with his deep brown eyes. A short brush of stubble covered his chin and jaw, the slightest of moustaches visible beneath his slim nose. "And who is this, Mr. Boggins? Your wife?" asked Kili, not taking his eyes off me. He offered me a friendly smile.

I spat out my wine.

"What?" cried Bilbo, running into the kitchen. "Who? No. No, Han is not my wife. She, like you and your friends, is an unexpected guest." He turned to Dwalin. "Where are you going with that? Put it back!"

"Han?" questioned Fili, lips twitching. "Isn't that a man's name-"

"It's short for something," I interrupted, not liking where the conversation was headed. "For Hannah," I explained at the expectant looks cast on their handsome faces. "It's short for Hannah."

"Hannah?" repeated the older brother, still smiling. "So you're not related to Mr. Boggins-"

I shook my head and tried to calm myself down. There was something about being sat down at this tiny kitchen table with four dwarves standing in front of me, something quite frightening about it. Flashbacks of the fight sequences from the film seeped into my thoughts and I shook my head, again, to get rid of them. "No. I just met him."

"And where is you're from, Han?" asked Kili, nodding his head to Dwalin as the older dwarf instructed him to help with the moving of the dining table.

I moved back from the table, my half-finished plate of fish and vegetables forgotten, and looked at Kili. "Northfarthing. Peony End."

It was Bilbo who spoke next. "Peony End? The only hobbit I know of living at Peony End is Maybelle Bolger-"

I faced the other hobbit. "Yes. I lived with her for a few weeks-"

"Why?"

Fighting back the sigh of exasperation that was wanting to come out, I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. "Because I was without a home. Maybelle was kind enough to let me lodge with her." Turning back to the other dwarves who had listened to that brief explanation, I sighed and tried to avoid the looks of pity and understanding they were sending me. Fili and Kili's were the worst.

Fili nodded his head to me, a nod of assurance and understanding. He patted his brother's shoulder and moved to the left to help Dwalin grab the table.

Kili, however, remained still. I couldn't describe the look that had washed over his handsome features. It was a mixture of regret, warmth, and consideration.

Of course the dwarves would know better than me what it was like to live without a home, to be swept away from their homeland to never return.

And then it hit me. I _was_ like them. I had been torn from my home, lost in this dream world, unsure as to how long my being there would last, unknowing as to why Gandalf had invited me to eat and drink with the group.

I was taken by surprise when Balin appeared next to me. His smile was kind. "And where is it you're from, Han?"

"London," I said. "My home was London."

"London?" repeated Kili, responding to my choice of words. "Never heard of it."

"Well, that's the thing," I muttered, more to myself than anyone else, but I was still acutely aware of Kili and Balin listening to my mumblings. "I'm not sure if it exists anymore."

* * *

**AN: A HUGE thank you to every one who has reviewed, favourited and alerted this story. I'd love to know what you think!**

**I have a week off work to continue updating this story, so if you'd like to see more, please let me know by reviewing!**


	4. Chapter 3

**_Lost _by_ LittleApril - Chapter Three_**

Chaos. Complete madness.

I had taken to standing by the arch leading from the entrance foyer to the kitchen, watching in undisguised amusement as the four dwarves rearranged the furniture and pulled the food and drink from the pantry. The group had taken to moving the dining room furniture into the hall, scraping the wooden chairs across the flagstone floor, carrying the table with ease. As I observed their movements, biting my lip to keep from laughing at Bilbo's obvious discomfort, the doorbell rang. Again.

Huffing and puffing, dropping Fili's daggers and swords to the ground with a clunk, the male hobbit stormed to the front door, barking, "Oh, no. No, no, _no. _There's no one home!" His cries got louder as he reached the door, and from my spot to the right of him, I listened as he ranted. "Go away! And bother somebody else! There is _far_ too many _dwarves_ in my dining room as it is! If this is some kind of a joke, I can only say it is in very poor taste-". He threw the door open and fell back as the group of dwarves tumbled into his home, the towering form of Gandalf peering into the house with an amused smile on his face.

The dwarves grunted and grumbled under the weight of their companions, twisting and shoving to right themselves. There were cries of "Get off!" "Move your leg!" "You, you big lump, get off me!".

"Gandalf," sighed Bilbo, now realising who was behind the madness.

Had he been expecting anyone else?

The wizard strode into the room, helping the dwarves to their feet, holding his staff in his right hand. Like me, he stood to the side and watched as the dwarves busied off into the dining room, hefting chairs and dinner plates as they went. Bilbo raced after them, trying to put a stop to the madness.

"Good evening," Gandalf said as he looked down at me, a knowing look on his face. "Forgive my manners, my name is-"

Before I could stop the words leaving my mouth, I said, "Gandalf. Gandalf the Grey."

Instead of looking surprised like I _thought_ he would, the grey-haired man simply smiled. "And your name?"

"Hannah Rogers. I'm-"

"A little too tall to be a hobbit, are you not?" commented the wizard, sending me a meaningful smile. Before I could interrupt his acute observations, he continued with, "It is not very often I find a hobbit wearing boots, Hannah Rogers. A peculiar hobbit you must be. Not a Fallohide. Nor a Harfoot or Stoor." The man raised his brows, as though waiting for me to argue.

I had no idea what to say. Is this why he had invited me to dinner? To comment on my height? "I-"

"And with such a slight point to your ears. Tell me, Miss Rogers, where is it you came from?"

"London. I'm from London."

And from the look on his face, not one of surprise or doubt, just pure intrigue, the wizard bowed his head. "A place far from here, I suspect."

My eyes somewhat widened at his words. "Yes," I said, growing both more excited and bewildered as the conversation continued. "It's-"

"Ah, well, yes," cut in Gandalf, turning to look to his left where Bilbo Baggins and Fili stood, listening to our conversation with just as much interest as the wizard had showed. "Perhaps we should continue this conversation elsewhere. Let us rejoin the group. I believe supper may almost be ready." As he passed the eavesdropping pair, he called out, counting the dwarves as they passed by.

I blinked once, twice, three times. Was that it? Was that all he was going to ask? Didn't he find it strange that some hobbit like girl had just turned up in the Shire? But then again, I realised, pushing my back off against the wall to walk into the chaos of Bag End, this _was_ Gandalf. I was fairly certain the elderly wizard had a plan of some sorts concocting in his head, and I had a funny feeling I knew what it was.

I was dreaming, after all.

* * *

Cheeses, onions, mushrooms, roasted and mashed and sweet potatoes, parsnips, carrots, courgettes, sausages, rabbit, lamb, and chicken. Bread rolls and loaves and bannock. The food was snatched from the shelves by greedy, hungry dwarven hands and carried to the table to be feasted upon.

In the midst of it all stood Bilbo, ordering the intruders to put the food back before they ate him out of his once stocked pantry. "Excuse me, not my wine! Put it back! Excuse me!_ Excuse me!_ Put that _down_." He watched as one of the group carried out four over-sized truckles of cheese. "That's a bit excessive, isn't it? Have you got a cheese knife?"

"Cheese knife!" cried one of the other dwarves. I recognised this one as Bofur. He carried a plate of ham in his hands, stopping to talk to the hobbit. "He eats it by the block!"

Sighing, Bilbo pulled at his braces and caught my eye. "What?" he asked, staring at my expectantly. "Are you not going to join in on raiding me of my my food supplies?"

And before I could respond, Gandalf appeared at my side, gazing at the hobbit with a look of disappointment at the hobbit's manners. "Hannah is a guest, Mr. Baggins. You ought to treat her as such." And then the wizard was gone again, off counting the dwarves that stomped through the smial.

"I don't suppose you have any chicken or potatoes left?" I asked, quite hopeful. Having had my earlier meal snatched away from me, my stomach had been rumbling for the last ten minutes or so.

Bilbo sighed and closed his eyes, pointing in the direction of the nearly empty pantry. "Through there…" And then his eyes snapped open, ready to bark orders at some of the other dwarves who were carrying furniture into the hall from the other rooms.

Making my way into the pantry, I grabbed two bits of bannock, loading the flat bread with sliced tomatoes and peppers. As one of the dwarves walked past carrying a plate of chicken legs - the name of the dwarf had escaped my mind at this point -, I snagged one of the legs and piled it onto my plate, rejoining the group a few seconds later to watch as Fili, carrying three jugs of ale, walked along the table top. "Who wants an ale? There you go!"

As though noticing my presence for the first time, the dwarf closest to me, Bifur, moved to the side to let me pass. I was then pushed through the company of dwarves, down the table, till I found myself wedged in between Dwalin and Dori, opposite Kili, Fili, and Oin. It was then that I noticed the dwarves had set a place for me, and a smile tugged at my lips.

"And on the count of three! One, two, three!"

The smile then turned into a grimace as the dwarves knocked back their jugs of ale, the yellow-tinged liquid trickling down their chins and into their bushy beards. It the most silent the house had been since the arrival of Balin.

"More potatoes?" offered Dori, holding the plate out to me.

"Aye. Eat up, lass. There won't be food like this on our travels," instructed Dwalin, chewing through a mouthful of lamb stew.

"Travels?" I repeated, dumbly. What travels? Surely that didn't mean what I thought it did? _I _was going on this adventure with them? To bring back Erebor? Is that what Gandalf had told him? Because the only dwarf not surprised to see me at the Baggins' household was Dwalin, and hadn't Dwalin told Gandalf that Thorin was off visiting other dwarves nearby? _Did Thorin know?_ Was he in support of this? Of another _halfling_ joining his group? "I don't understand-"

But my question went unheard as Dwalin dropped a handful of sausages and potatoes on my plate. His stare read _eat now whilst you can. _

"Ale, Han?"

Looking up, I shook my head as Kili held out a tankard of the stuff. "No," I began, but the dwarf paid no attention and placed the drink down beside my plate, the liquid sloshing inside the jug. "-Thank you," I finished lamely, offering the hobbit a short smile.

He returned it with a grin of his own. I would have found his smile most attractive had it not been for the half-eaten lamb and chicken rolling around in his open mouth.

It was Fili who drew me into a conversation. The others were too busy drinking and shouting in merriment at being together once more. "London," stated Fili, staring at me with a determined look on his face. I couldn't read his expression. "Is it a big place?" None of the others were listening, too busy in catching up and stuffing their faces with food.

I nodded my head and decided to take a slow sip of the ale. It was sweet and full-bodied, forceful in taste. "Yes," I said, putting my tankard back down on the table. "A big place with lots of different people. All shapes and size," I continued, knowing that I had to somewhat try and take the conversation back to mine and Gandalf's earlier words. _A little too tall to be a hobbit, are you not? _"Humans and halflings and others."

"And if you don't mind me asking, Han," continued Fili, his stare never wavering. "What race _are_ you?"

Before I had chance to answer, to come up with some sort of answer that was somewhat truthful, Gandalf interrupted the celebrations as the knock on the door sounded.

_Saved by Thorin… _

And there, at the dinner table in the Shire, a stranger to these dwarves and hobbit, I had no idea how true those words would ring later in our travels. If I had, I would have made sure to thank Thorin before it was too late.

* * *

**AN: I'm absolutely blown away by the love this story has been given, and I'm only on chapter three! **

**A big thank you and mini-Kili to everyone who has reviewed, favourited, followed, and alerted the story. I'm nearly at 100 alerts and would love to reach that target before I upload chapter five (possibly tomorrow… or Tuesday). **

**Please continue to review! I love hearing your thoughts…. More will be revealed about Han in the next chapter (I realise that she has a lot of growing to do as a character, and is more of an onlooker at this point), but I promise there will be more to come!**


	5. Chapter 4

**_Lost _by_ LittleApril - Chapter Four_**

All movement within the hobbit house stilled as the noise quietened. Silence followed.

From my seat, trapped between two of the oldest dwarves in the room, I glanced around the group and studied each dwarf in turn. Fili and Kili stood ten feet apart, their stances less rigid than the others. Balin, nestled against the brickwork, held his pipe in his hands and a fleeting smile tugged on his lips. The gleeful shouts and cries from Bifur and Bofur had ceased. Dori stood in quiet, resting next to the fireplace. Nearby, Nori placed his hand on Ori's arm in a gesture of comfort. Bombur had finished eating. Oin and Gloin stood still, their expressions expectant. And next to them stood Gandalf.

_"He is here."_

The wizard strode from the room, Bilbo Baggins hot on his heels, and the conversation floated from the foyer toward the dining room.

Thorin Oakenshield's low voice resounded throughout the home. "Gandalf," he greeted, striding into the house. "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way. Twice." The man shed his furs and nodded his head in greeting to the rest of the company, his eyes trailing over each member before coming to rest on me. If Thorin was surprised at my being there, he did not let it show on his face. Instead, he turned back to face the wisest member of our group. "I wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door."

And then it was Bilbo's turn to cry out, and I found myself inwardly cringing at the hobbit's obsessive nature about his home. "Mark? There's no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago!" He leapt forward, evidently wanting to go outside and see this supposed mark for himself, but Gandalf closed the door before the hobbit could venture out into the cool night.

"There _is_ a mark," argued the wizard, with a minute shake of his head. I put it there myself." And then, clearing his throat, Gandalf introduced the two. "Bilbo Baggins," he said, gesturing to the hobbit, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield."

Bilbo stepped forward.

I inched slowly to the right, watching the display with mild amusement. Thorin's disdain for Bilbo made me bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud. Feeling a pair of eyes on me, I looked to my right to see Kili watching my expressions with a bemused frown. His dark eyes continued to watch me even after I'd locked stares with him. _Not easily deterred,_ I discovered.

It was Thorin's voice that interrupted our thirty-second staring contest.

"So," began Thorin, striding forward to peer down at the man with interest, before circling him as a predator would do unto its prey, "this is the hobbit. Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?"

Bilbo's "Pardon me?" went unnoticed by the dwarven king.

"Axe or sword? What is your weapon of choice?"

"Well," started Bilbo, looking up at the mightier male with little discomfort. "I do have some skill at conkers, if you must know." And then the hobbit's demeanour changed, and he appeared to be rather flustered. I didn't blame him - Thorin's stare was unyielding. "But I fail to see why that's relevant."

With his arms folded across his chest, Thorin bowed his head. "Thought as much," he commented, turning to face the two dwarves closest to him. Dwalin and Balin smiled despite themselves. "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."

And the dining room erupted in laughter, and I couldn't help but laugh along with them. Bilbo's naivety was comical.

* * *

The company had moved back to the dining table, the head of the table now seating Thorin himself. I was nestled between wall and Fili and Kili, the brothers having escorted me down to the bottom of the table with haste, eager to hear more of their uncle's adventures. I was acutely aware of Fili's eyes watching my every move, and I loathe to admit it unnerved me more than it should have done. The blonde knew there was something wrong with my story, with my being there. It was written in his stony expression. He didn't trust me.

But then again, I wouldn't have trusted myself either.

I knew their fates.

Their terrible, unfortunate fates.

And suddenly I felt sick. Because as I listened to the stories Thorin told, watched as Kili's face lip up at the prospect of returning to the home of his people, the home he had never known, my stomach churned as I realised that soon, in a matter of months or hours depending on how long I stayed dreaming in this world, the two brothers next to me would perish. I felt myself go still, the colour drain from my face, and tried my hardest not to look up at their young, handsome faces.

More ale was slid down the smooth surface of the table, and I looked up only to be trapped by Kili's gaze as the dwarf offered me a second tankard of ale. The raven-haired dwarf smiled at me, his face youthful and striking, and he muttered a short, "For you, Han,".

The table erupted in cheers and shouts, and I realised I hadn't been paying the slightest bit of attention to the ongoing conversation. What did it matter? I already knew the script. I knew the film as well as I knew the book. Glancing around, my eyes trailing over the dwarves, I realised Thorin had finished his speech about taking back their kingdom, and Bilbo was already on the floor unconscious.

"If we have read these signs, do you not think that others will have read them too?" At Thorin's words, the table fell silent. "Rumours have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for sixty years. Eyes look east to the mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?" And then the company was shouting in their language, raising their fists, shouting battle cries.

Balin's voice cut into the din. "You forget," admonished the dwarf, not joining in on the shouts and cries of his friends and family, "the front gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain."

"That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true." And with those words, Gandalf reached inside his robes and pulled out a large, metal key.

Beside this, Thorin stared at the object in wonder. "How came you by this?"

"It was given to me by your father, by Thrain."

I had mouthed the words alongside the wizard, whispering them to myself, knowing that I had always adored Ian McKellan as Gandalf, for there was no better actor to play the wise-man, and looked to the left of me to find Bombur watching me mouth the words. His expression was one of puzzlement and I immediately stopped, offering the dwarf a tight-lipped smile.

I really had to stop acting so suspicious.

Having missed the rest of the conversation, I was pulled out of my thoughts by Fili's statement. "If there is a key," murmured the blonde, staring at his uncle for confirmation. "There must be a door."

Fili, heir of Durin, quite possibly the next Sherlock Holmes. _How ever did he come up with that?_ I had to stop myself from smirking, for Bombur was still staring at me, still eating his dinner.

"There's another way in," whispered Kili, grasping his brother's arm, still smiling.

_But you'll be dead before you find it._

It was as though I had been punched in the stomach. Why was my mind so preoccupied on the brothers' deaths? I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the thoughts, but all I could see was the words of the novel travelling through my mind.

And the oddest thing about it all, other than the fact I was dreaming I was trapped inside the movie version of one of my favourite books and it was incredibly lifelike, was that it hurt. It _physically_ hurt to think of the brothers' deaths. I clutched at my stomach, bowing my head, biting my lip to keep from crying out in pain. I tried to rid myself of the thoughts, but suddenly all I could see was Fili's face, followed by Kili's, lifeless, eyes open, staring at the sky for he was dead, slain in battle whilst trying to protect his uncle, his brother, his people. Another wave of pain hit me and this time it was directed to my chest. I began to wheeze.

"Han?" Fili. It was his voice that spoke to me, looking down at me with concern in his dark eyes. I must have looked a sight, hunched over at the end of the table, gritting my teeth.

I couldn't look at him for long, for suddenly, without warning, the skin pulled tight across the dwarfs face began to rot and be torn away, leaving flesh and bone and teeth visible. My eyes widened and I began to heave, daring to glance up at the dwarf once more to find that his face was fine. There was no rotting flesh, no torn skin, no yellowed decaying teeth.

"Is everything alright? You look quite sick."

I ignored Kili's question. I didn't dare look at him. Would it happen again? I couldn't imagine, not in my wildest imagination, seeing Kili's handsome face scarred and putrescent. "Mmm," I hummed, still holding my fist to my chest. Why did it hurt so much to think of their fates?

The other members of the company now noticed my discomfort.

I opened my eyes and stared to the head of the table, trying to find Gandalf, wondering if he, too, was alarmed by my apparent state of distress. But instead of looking intrigued or worried by my fear and evident discomfort, the wizard looked knowingly at me. And, staring me in the eye, he nodded.

* * *

**AN: Apologies for the short chapter, I hope to have another one up by either tonight or tomorrow morning!**

**What do you think? All will be explained in the chapters to come, but there are a few hints in this chapter explaining why Han is there etc. And some hints as to whether or not she is dreaming. **

**This story will have three parts - the first part taking place during the Hobbit and its sequels (all will be movie-verse), and then a sequel/intermittent part of the story, and then a third part taking place after the trilogy. Whether this will be a "Kili survives!" story, well, you'll have to continue reading to find out.**

**Also... someone PMd me asking why I was staggering the story, as most authors had already leapt straight into the quest by their third chapter. I'm staggering the story for one reason only - we have eleven months until the second film is released, and, seeing as this story is all movieverse, I don't want you lot to have to wait eleven months till you get the next chapter. I hope to cover all of the first film by at least thirty chapters, some short, some long, some with bits and pieces that weren't in the film, and the romance won't be for quite a bit, actually. (Because romance in the eighth/tenth chapters really bothers me). **

**Also... I'd love to hear some of your theories as to why Han is in the story! A few of you have messaged me, and it's really interesting seeing how close some of you are, and how wild some of your thoughts are!**

**Please continue to review, and I'll have another chapter up for you very soon!**


	6. Chapter 5

**_Lost _by_ LittleApril - Chapter Five_**

It was a dull, never-ending ache. And it increased each and every time I glanced to my right to look at the two Durin brothers.

The other dwarves had shuffled from the dining room into the sitting room, crowded around the hearth. Gandalf had disappeared to speak to Bilbo, to warn him of the dangers to come. I didn't have to follow to know what the conversation foretold. Upon noticing my continuing discomfort, and the clutching of my stomach, Balin and Fili had escorted me to one of the plump armchairs. I had tried to stand up, to walk the pain off, to find Gandalf and ask him what on earth that _look_ was for, but each time I made to get up, Fili would shift, and he would stare down at me with a warning glance which read _there's no point in trying. _And, grumbling to myself, looking anywhere but my newly appointed guardian, I tried to think of anything but the pain in my chest.

The flames of the fire licked at the wire-guard, hissing and flickering with each heavy breath. With his arm resting on top of the mantelpiece, Thorin held his pipe to his mouth, his lips moulding around the tube, puffing on it in silence.

I knew what was coming next for I had listened to it each and every time I had watched the film or listened to the track on my MP3 player, but hearing it now, tucked away in Bilbo's home, warmed by the fire and the kindness the dwarves had spoilt me with, …it took my breath away.

_Far over the Misty Mountains cold,_

_To dungeons deep and caverns old,_

_We must away, ere break of day,_

_To seek our pale enchanted gold,_

_The pines were roaring on the heights,_

_The wind was moaning in the night,_

_The fire was red, it flaming spread,_

_The tree likes torches blazed with light. _

The voices faded and soon the house was quiet. There was no laughter, no excited chatter, nothing but the roar of the fire and the clouds of smoke emitting from the dwarves' pipes. And that was the last thing I knew.

* * *

Morning. Sunlight bled into the home, slinking through the gaps in the curtains, and the morning song of the birds roused me from my sleep. Glancing around, at the now empty living room - for hadn't it moments ago been swarming with singing dwarves? -, I realised I was curled up in the same armchair I had been sitting in last night. The black sheet of cloth that covered me had, however, not been there last night. Rubbing at my eyes, I looked down at the cloth and came to the realisation that it wasn't just a piece of cloth at all - it was a cloak.

And I had no idea whom it belonged to.

Shifting, I let my boot-clad feet touch the ground and I stretched my arms out in front of me, folding the cloak in half and placing it on the arm of the recliner. Had the dwarves and Gandalf left already?

"Morning, Miss Rogers," came a familiar voice.

I turned, finding myself face to face with Balin.

The grey-haired dwarf smiled kindly at me, sensing my confusion. "The others have bathed and fed. They're sorting their packs as we speak. Gandalf said he wished to speak to you before we leave. He asked me to take you to him."

"Yes," I said, the words leaving my mouth before I had time to truly register what the dwarf had said. "Yes, of course. Where is he?"

"Just out the back, Miss Rogers." And with that, Balin led me to the front door of the house, leaving me rather confused as to what he considered to be the back of the home, and nodded his head in the direction of Gandalf.

The wizard was sat upon the same stone bench Bilbo had been sitting upon the previous afternoon. Upon seeing me, he smiled and moved his head to the left, bidding me forward. "I trust you slept well?" asked Gandalf, watching me, his smile curious.

I folded my arms across my chest. "Yes. What was-"

"All in due time, my girl," cut in Gandalf, still peering at me. "I have questions of my own." He cleared his throat and hummed to himself. "You know my name?"

I blinked. "Yes."

"And of the shire? Of Thorin and his company?"

I then realised the man wasn't looking for a verbal answer, just enough emotion to detect whether or not I was being truthful. I resorted to nodding and shaking my head in answer to his questions.

"And you have knowledge of the dwarves quest, no doubt," presumed the wizard, still nodding to himself, apparently lost in his thoughts. "And do you know the outcome?"

Once again, I nodded my head.

"You're not of this place are you, Hannah Rogers? For I have never heard of London. Nor have I ever met a _hobbit_ with such human hands and feet." And before I could answer, to tell him that I _was_ human, just drastically altered in this place, in this universe, he continued. "And this knowledge will be a burden, of course. It will come with, I'm afraid, a terrible cost. And I don't think you quite yet know what that cost is. And I'm afraid I do not know the answer either.

"Nevertheless," said Gandalf, now rising to his feet. "Your knowledge will be an undoubted advantage to our cause. How well do you know it?" Upon hearing my quiet '_very well'_, he murmured. "Yes, yes. Of course. Now I don't suppose you have a pack ready to take with you? We will be travelling light, but one cannot be expected to trek the lands of Middle-earth with no supplies. I believe Fili and Kili have some extra provisions. Be sure to give the brothers their cloak back. And Miss Rogers, I do believe it best to leave your knowledge between the two of us, yes? For dwarves are known to have been driven mad by their suspicions."

"Their cloak?" I repeated, having gone numb. _What did he mean by terrible cost?_

"Yes," murmured Gandalf, smiling to himself. "It appears that one of the brothers has taken quite the interest in you." And holding his staff in one hand, the pipe in his other, the wizard moved to rally up the rest of our odd-looking group. Thirteen dwarves, an elderly seemingly senile wizard, one human girl turned hobbit, and a hobbit who didn't know himself at all.

* * *

I traipsed back inside the house and collected the makeshift blanket, wondering which of the brothers it belonged to, before gathering my own travelling cloak. Moving back outside, I spotted the brothers tending to their horses, shooting them a timid grin as I approached.

Fili stared at me, nodding his head once in my general direction, before carrying on attaching his pack to his horse. Kili, however, smiled and plucked the cloak from my fingers. "Morning, Han," he greeted. "Gandalf said you were riding with us. We don't have enough ponies for everyone. We asked whether or not you could have Bilbo's pony, but Gandalf said not." And having said that, the youngest brother clipped the black cloak around his shoulders, still smiling.

I asked the first question that came into my head. "When do we leave?"

"Soon," answered Fili, adjusting the weight of his pack. He glanced at my lack of equipment. "It rings true, then, what Gandalf said. You have no equipment."

And I immediately felt sheepish, asking the brothers to borrow their things. But it was Kili who made my embarrassment disappear. "And that, brother, is why we always bring more than we need. Here, Han," and with that, Kili dropped a sack on the floor. Peering inside the sack, I spied clothes of all different colours.

"What's in there?"

"Spare changes of clothes, some extra food. A dagger or two."

I nodded my head, throwing the dark-haired brother a thankful grin.

"And I take it you're faring better than you were last night?"

Kili's brow furrowed. "Better?" he repeated, evidently confused.

Fili spared a glance at his brother. "Are you?"

"Much better, thanks," I mumbled, leaning down to take hold of the burlap sack. I hefted it into my arms and turned back on the brothers, hurrying into the house to change.

I washed and dressed, ridding myself of the grass and food stained clothing I had been wearing for the past week or so, instead delving my arm inside the sack to retrieve a spare change of clothes. The shirts I found were black and brown, quite small on the chest, and evidently Kili's (for Fili seemed much broader in that department). Having pulled them over my head, I glanced in the mirror to be somewhat horrified by my reflection. It was the first time I'd looked in the mirror, for Maybelle didn't believe in mirrors, and I'd only managed to get a glimpse of myself in the winding rivers of Northfarthing.

The sight of my bedraggled appearance made me cringe.

And so I scrubbed and scrubbed till there was no dirt left at all. And I ran the comb through my hair, snagging and snarling to myself as I hit knot and tangle after knot and tangle. I had always been quite fond of my appearance, for my skin was pale and dotted with freckles, and my eyes, as light a blue as the morning sky, hidden behind a thick fringe of hair. My hair was a light brown, tinged with highlights from the Middle-earth sun, and my cheeks were flushed red from the soap and sponge I had used to rid myself of the dirt that had caked my face.

Stifling a yawn, I burrowed my dirty clothes in the sack, wondering if I'd ever get a chance to wash them, and headed back outdoors, ready to discover which of the brothers were willing to have me ride alongside with them.

"Here, Hannah," called Fili once I hurried over to them, taking the pack out of my hands. He fastened it to the other bags weighing down his pony, and nodded in the direction of his brother. "Kili will ride with you."

And that answered _that_ question.

It was evident that Fili was still quite unsure about my being there, for his eyes never left my form even as he walked away, guiding his pony to regroup with the others. Trying not to roll my eyes, heeding Gandalf's words, I stomped over to Kili who was no longer smiling. "What?" I said, suddenly wondering if the dwarf was against riding with me. "Something wrong?"

His words took me by surprise, for I never thought that this Kili, this smiling, happy movie-verse Kili, could be anything but happy when not in battle, said, "My brother doesn't approve of you."

_Here we go. _"What makes you say that?" My question was light in tone, and I tried not to show how much it bothered me.

Kili's eyes flashed to mine, his piercingly dark. "He told me so."

_Oh._

I hadn't realised the dwarf was still talking. "Though I don't see why," carried on Kili, looking at me, as though waiting for me to tell him _why_ he shouldn't trust me. And then it happened again. The pain came back, hitting me in the chest at full-speed, winding me. "Han? Hannah, are you-"

Without looking at him, for I knew the pain would only lesson if I looked anywhere but _him_, I shook my head and tried to concentrate on evening out my breathing. And after a moment or two, the pain disappeared. "Fine," I lied, trying to avoid his gaze. But he rested his hand on my upper arm in a comforting gesture, and I couldn't help but look at his hand in shock. Hadn't he just told me that his brother didn't approve? Why was he so concerned?

"Here," said Kili, standing beside me now, removing his hand from my arm. "I'll give you a hand up-" and without warning, the dwarf pressed his palm into the small of my back, and hoisted my small frame onto the grazing pony. Seconds later, the dwarf landed beside me, grabbing the reigns of his horse, laughing at my bewildered expression. "Don't tell me you've never ridden a pony before," he laughed. And then he calmed down, sensing my embarrassment, and yet still smiled to himself.

_So jovial, so full of life…_

But not for long.

The thought brought on the pain again, and I fell forward, but Kili had seized my arm, keeping me upright on the animal. His eyes were focused on my face, watching me carefully, as he would do so for the remainder of our journey.

* * *

**AN: I am having so much fun writing this story - it's easily becoming my favourite thing to write!**

**There's just so much to explore, and Bilbo hasn't even joined the quest yet! Please tell me what you think - especially around the Kili/Hannah interaction. I'd love to know what you think!**

**Please Review! **


	7. Chapter 6

**_Lost _by_ LittleApril - Chapter Six_**

There was something about being on a lowly chocolate-coloured pony, my back pressed against Kili's chest, my body moving with each trot and canter across the uneven grasslands of the Shire, something quite peculiar.

I tried to ignore the rumble of Kili's chest as he laughed and talked with the other dwarves, tried to put my mind at ease and not _think_ of what was yet to come, what I hadn't even seen yet due to film release dates. My mind was overcome by thoughts and memories of the first film and of the book, and a terrifying thought hit me: …would I survive in this dream world? Or would I suddenly jolt up in bed, back in London, heart and mind racing, and be able to convince myself it was all a nightmare? _Orcs, goblins, Gollum, Smaug… _

Just a terrible, _terrible_ dream.

We began to trek up hill, across the borders of Westfarthing, away from the greenery of the Shire.

The rest of the dwarves had struck up conversations relating to their time spent at the house of Baggins, and I could hear Dwalin's complaints all the way from the back of the group. "A complete waste of time!" grumbled the dwarf, adjusting his position on his pony.

"Hear, hear!" chorused the others.

And then I heard Kili's voice, quiet and low, his breath tickling and fanning over my face for he had lowered his mouth next to ear, "Do you agree with Gandalf? You think Bilbo will come?"

"Yes," I murmured, nodding my head, confident. _What kind of story would it be if the hobbit didn't come?_

Kili laughed quietly. "You sound certain."

"That's because I am," I replied, trying to ignore the more than curious look the dwarf shot me. I was idly aware of Fili riding close to us, still watching, listening to our conversation.

"Here that, brother," cried Kili. And without looking, I could just imagine the teasing twitch of his lips. "We have a seer in our company!"

Daring a glance in front of us, I cringed as Gandalf turned to face our merry lot, regarding me with a warning glance. I nodded my head, heeding his unspoken words. I _had_ to be more careful. Fili was already terribly mistrustful of me, and I didn't want the others to act the same way. What would they do if they realised I had knowledge of all their fates? Of their casualties? What would Fili do if I told him that both he and his brother would perish in the fight?

And then I heard Bilbo's voice crying out to us, tearing me from my dark thoughts, and I turned, knocking my elbow into Kili's stomach. I apologised, but he waved it away, too involved in watching as Bilbo hurried toward us. "Wait!" cried the hobbit. "Wait!" And he ran toward us, holding his contract high in the air, the parchment flapping in the swift breeze. As he neared, the horses slowed, Kili pulling on the reigns of our horse, and our group came to a stop.

The horses neighed and grunted in displeasure.

"I signed it!" said Bilbo, looking very pleased with himself indeed. And looking at Thorin for confirmation, the hobbit hurried to Balin and handed over the papers.

Taking out his eyeglasses, the elderly dwarf looked over the papers, scanning the words and the signature. "Everything appears to be in order," declared Balin, a friendly smile on his face. "Welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield." He winked at the hobbit, still smiling, and there was a chorus of approval from the rest of our group.

Behind me, Kili laughed and his hand, rough and calloused from years of sword-fighting and practise, patted my shoulder. "Tell me, Han," joked the dwarf, "can you tell me my future?"

Have you ever felt air rush from your lungs? The feeling you get when you run and run and run and there's no air getting to your lungs, and you're red-faced and you feel as though you're dying? My body began to tremble and I was certain that Kili could feel my body shake beneath his gloved hand. I began to feel faint and unsteady, and I was suddenly aware that I was falling. But two rough hands pulled me upward, _again_, but this time was it both Kili _and_ Fili, both brothers surveying my panic attack with alarm, each of them gripping my arms. And then, unclipping something from his pack, Fili dropped a flask in my hands, assuring me it was water.

"Drink," he instructed.

And I tried to unclip the container, but my fingers began to fumble. Kili dropped his hand from my arm and popped the top from the flask. I murmured my thanks and hesitantly sipped at the water. I nearly lost my balance for a second time when the horses came to a sudden stop. _Again._

_Slow and steady wins the race._

"Wait. _Wait. _Stop! Stop!" ordered Bilbo, fishing through his jacket pockets. "We _have_ to turn around!"

Behind me, I felt Kili sigh in frustration.

"What on earth is the matter?" grumbled Gandalf, peering down at the hobbit with scepticism.

"I've forgot my handkerchief," announced Bilbo, still rummaging around in his pockets.

"What an idiot," I mumbled to myself, faintly aware of Kili's chest shaking in silent laughter at my comment. I smiled.

Looking to the right, I held back a bout of laughter myself as Bofur ripped the material from his shirt and threw it in Bilbo's general direction. It was much, _much_ funnier to have seen in real life than on the big screen.

And then we were off again, starting our journey to bring back Erebor.

* * *

The sky soon fell dark. We had trekked past the winding rivers of the Shire and down the steep hillsides, the road rough and pitted. Through the dense woodlands and past the sloping hummocks, across the grasslands toward the towering cliffside ahead of us. Conversation had been muted, each member of our party too engrossed in their thoughts and the journey onward. At times, on particularly even parts of land, I had found myself ready to doze. My eyes remained wide open, however, brought back to the present by the din of the horses' hooves against the rock.

When we reached the cliffs, Thorin announced that we would camp here for the night - our eyelids heavy and our ponies too weary to continue.

Jumping down from the horse, accepting Kili's helping hand, I brushed my hands over my clothes, smoothing down the creases, and held up my fist to hide a yawn. It felt like it had been hours since I had last slept. Grabbing the kit I had been given, I slung it over my shoulder and pushed it on the floor, making room for myself between Ori and Bilbo. I laid my mat down on the ground and sat upon it, wrapping the spare travelling cloak around my shoulders.

Night had fallen and with it the temperature.

My hands rubbed at my arms, hoping the friction would warm them, and I rested my head on them knowing that sleep was inevitable.

The ponies had been tied to a nearby tree trunk, and they grazed and rested by the cliff face. Most of the dwarves had fallen asleep, though some stayed awake, too busy lost in their thoughts, some too cold to fall into slumber.

The crackle and hiss of the fire pulled me from my thoughts, and knowing that I wouldn't fall asleep just yet, I stood and moved closer to the flames, smiling uncertainly, yet again, at the two Durin brothers.

"Unused to the cold, Han?" asked Fili, puffing on his pipe. He nodded in greeting, and motioned for me to sit.

I did so, crossing my legs beneath me, moving as close as I could to the fire so that I could feel the warmth on my cheeks. "Unused to being outside at night, more like."

"Was London not cold?"

And so the questioning began again. I hummed a response and folded my arms across my chest. "A dreary place," I told him, looking the heir to the throne in the eye. "With lots of rain and clouds. A cloudless sky is a rare sight. Harsh winds and constant breezes. But it's home."

"Is a rare sight?" echoed Kili, joining in the conversation, eyes flickering between his brother and me. "I thought London was lost-"

"And it is," I agreed, biting my lip. "But I suppose… I suppose I'm wishing it would somehow come back."

Before Fili could continue, for he had opened his mouth, he was interrupted by Bilbo. The hobbit had risen from his mat, stomping over to the horses, away from the snoring form of Bombur.

And then we all heard it, the cry of something ferocious and terrifying. The cry of an orc.

Shuffling back to our group, careful not to wake anyone, Bilbo hissed, "What was that?"

Kili frowned, cocking his head to the right to listen. "Orcs," he breathed.

"Orcs?" repeated Bilbo, still moving toward us, not noticing that his hiss of the word had caused Thorin to stir from his seat by the rock.

Fili removed the pipe from his mouth and nodded, calm as ever. "Throat-cutters," he elaborated. "There'll be dozens of them out there. The low lands are crawling with them."

Even though I'd heard the story on the big screen, hearing the words leave Kili's mouth sent nervous butterflies fluttering in my stomach. I felt as though I was going to vomit. I had never done well with horror movies or suspense. "They strike in the wee small hours of the night, when everyone is asleep. Quick and quiet. No screams. Just lots of blood."

As the hobbit turned away, I glared at the two brothers as they shared a look of mischief. As if sensing my glare, Kili glanced at me and his teasing smile morphed into a confused frown. My glare didn't waver and instead I looked away to stare at my feet as Thorin rose to his.

"You think that's funny?" growled the would-be king, startling his kin. "You think a night-raid by orcs is a joke?"

Kili bowed his head. "We didn't mean anything by it-"

"No. You didn't." The disappointment radiating off Thorin was coming in waves. Even I felt ashamed for the two. "You know nothing of the world." And the man moved away to stare out at the darkened lands of Middle-earth, unable to look at his nephews any longer.

It was Balin's voice that teared me from my own thoughts, though his sentiment was directed to the youngest of the brothers. "Don't mind him, laddie," murmured Balin, now on his feet as well. He shuffled forward, leaning against the rock face to rest for a short moment. "Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs." And he told us of the story, of how Thorin had saved his life and the lives of his people, and how no help came from the elves, and of the struggle to find good, honest work in the land of men, and of the battle. Coming to the end of his story, he whispered, "But there was no feast nor song that night."

As Balin spoke, the memories of the film sequence flooded my mind. And in that moment, I truly felt for Thorin. And surprise filled me as I wondered why it didn't hurt to think of his looming death.

"For our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived. And I thought to myself then: there is one who I could follow. _There_ is one I could call King."

The rest of our group fell silent, listening and dwelling on Balin's tale of Thorin and his family's fate. And in honour of this, the dwarves now clambered to their feet, facing their King with loyalty in their hearts and written upon their faces.

Bowing his head in gratitude, Thorin made his way through his company, back to his bed for the night.

Bilbo looked at Balin. "But the Pale Orc?" asked Bilbo, his hands resting on his lap. "What happened to him?"

"He slunk back into the hole whence he came. That _filth_ died of his wounds long ago."

And before I could stop myself, my gaze lifted to look Gandalf square in the eye, well aware of the look he and Balin had shared, and my expression mirrored their own. Though, unlike them, I knew of the dangers looming ahead, and of the spying Orc watching and recording our conversations.

* * *

**AN: A bit of a filler chapter, but I wanted to get this uploaded before I start work on the next chapter. **

**Chapter 7 will be fleshed out a lot more with Kili and Han conversations, and more about Han's past will be revealed. Throughout the previous chapters, and especially the next few chapters, there will be lots of hints as to why and _how_ Han got to Middle-earth. I have the entire story written in my head, and, let me tell you, it is going to be a _long_ story. **

**In response to the reviews for the last chapter - thank you all so much! Some of you have asked for longer chapters. The chapter length I'm working with at the moment is quite nice for me at the moment, because it allows me to update frequently. Had I had these six chapters already written and ready to upload, I would've uploaded them as just two or three chapters (does that make sense?). I'm working through the film scene by scene, hence the relatively short chapters.**

**Speaking of reviews... I'm nearly at 100! Thanks, again! Please continue to review, follow, and favourite! **


	8. Chapter 7

**_Lost _by_ LittleApril - Chapter Seven_**

Sleep did not come easily that night. I tossed and turned on my makeshift bed upon the rock, staring at the night sky with a frown etched on my face.

Giving up on sleep, for Dwalin and Bombur's snores were much too loud to ignore, I shuffled into a sitting position and stared out around the group. How could I sleep? I was still dreaming. And I couldn't yet bring myself to see it as real. How could I? This world was fictional. It was filled with mythical creatures and observant wizards. There was no sense of comfort, because even in this world, this dream state, I was scared of what was to come. I was no longer watching the events unfold on the big screen. I was there, watching and waiting, in a world I knew so much about.

Back in London, in my one bedroomed flat, my sleeping pattern had been irregular. And it often resulted in numerous trips to the doctors to procure sleeping tablets of some sort. When I was eighteen-years-old, when I had first left my parents' house in Dorset, I had learnt that I was a somnambulist. A sleepwalker.

The doctors had said it was do with my new surroundings. Many a time I would open my eyes after a deep sleep only to find myself curled up on the floor beside my bed or even outside of my bedroom. There was no night terrors, no unpleasant dreams. In sleep, I simply moved from the comfort of my bed to some other position. And sometimes I found myself down the stairs, outside of my apartment, sleeping by the freezing cold stairwells.

In winter, it was particularly bitter.

And now, lost and wide awake in this dream world, I wondered when I would _finally_ wake up.

The fire was nothing more than a few last burning embers and beside it sat a hunched over figure. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I stared at the silhouette of the dwarf. "Kili?"

The dwarf turned to look at me, a short smile visible in the darkness. "Still awake at this hour, Han?"

"I could say the same for you."

Kili shook his head. "Thorin asked that I take the first watch."

"And Fili-?"

"Asleep."

"Oh."

"Cold, Han?" questioned Kili, his gaze locked on my shivering form. "The fire is still warm."

And taking that as my cue, I staggered to my feet and weaved through the rest of the sleeping dwarves, careful not to graze them as I walked past. I sat myself beside the fire, resting my head on my knees, staring at the fading hues of yellows and reds, the flames crackling as they lapped at the dry branches and leaves. No words were spoken. We simply sat, side by side, in silence for the rest of the evening. At some point, I must have drifted off to sleep, lost in the world of dreams within a dream, too weary to realise that a familiar black cloak had been placed over my shoulders.

* * *

The next few days passed by in a haze of darkened scenery. Each night we camped without shelter, using our cloaks as cover from the rain. The nights continued to be cool. And as I spent more time with the group, I began to notice the strange habits of each of the dwarves. Nori, for instance, refused to sleep by his brother, finding his nasal whistling to be too bothersome. Balin slept closest to Thorin, the old friends often talking in hushed murmurs. At night, Fili would keep his eye on me, watching in silence, as though waiting for me to do something to upset him.

And Kili would continue to confound me. Each night, when we settled down for the evening, I would venture away from the group, taking in my surroundings, the scenery that had never been captured in the films. It was far more beautiful than anything I could have envisioned. I would choose a seat, sometimes a large rock or stone, and stare out at Middle-earth, and wonder just _when_ I would be back home in my bed.

And Kili would follow. He never said anything, and would just sit a mere few feet away, happy to sit in silence. And when I was ready to regroup, he would follow me once more.

On this particular night, three nights into our journey, I walked away from the others and, after a moment or two of searching, found a rock smooth enough to sit on. Sensing a presence behind me, I turned. Kili had found a similar stone and was sat studying his weaponry. The rain had poisoned my mood. I was in no mind to allow Kili's constant shadow over me. "Why are you following me?" I asked, not bothering to turn around.

It was a few seconds till he spoke. "Each night you wander further and further away." His voice was quiet, as though he didn't want the others to hear. "As though you want to lose our company, to disappear."

_The dwarf was sharp. _

"Would it really matter if I did?" My question took him by surprise. I jumped up from the rock I had been lounging on, curving my neck to stare at him. There was nothing I wanted more than to disappear from this world, to find myself back in London, dream free for one night.

"Yes." Kili said at last.

There is a lot of talk in the fandom about Kili's impulsive and reckless behaviour, but not enough talk or screen time to show just how great a friend he was. I was unsure how to respond, so instead I diverted the conversation back to his brother. "I can't imagine Fili feeling the same way."

Kili now refused to look at me. "He does not dislike you, Han. He does not know you. And that is what bothers him."

* * *

We made haste in the morning. Breakfast was dished out just as the morning sun peeked out behind the mountains. I had stared at the grits and porridge with a look of repulsion twisting my lips into a frown. A few minutes after that, Bilbo pulled me aside. The hobbit extracted a shiny red apple from his jacket pocket, offering it to me with a short nod of his head. I idly wondered what else the little man had tucked away inside his coat.

"We head North," ordered Thorin.

A few murmurs were heard as the group moved forward to untether their ponies, each dwarf hurrying to continue our journey to Erebor.

* * *

The rain was as sharp as daggers, each droplet piercing our flesh with force. We moved through the trees, the soil beneath us turned to sludge, our ponies wading miserably through the oversized puddles. Kili and I rode in silence at the back of the group, my back to his chest, jolting with each step the horse took. I felt my eyelids flutter closed a few times, too tired to continue this journey awake, and it was Dori's cry that roused me from my attempt at sleep.

"'Ere, Mr. Gandalf?" shouted the little dwarf, trying to get his voice heard over the rain. "Can't you do something about this deluge?"

As my eyes began to focus, our pony gave a lurch as it ambled through the mud, and I felt myself jumping in surprise.

"Steady," muttered Kili, his hand on my arm once again. It was becoming a bit of a habit.

Gandalf's response could be heard even at the very back of our lineup. "It is raining, Master Dwarf. And it will continue to rain until the rain has done." A slight pause as we veered right. "If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard."

I tuned out of the conversation, trying to concentrate on anything but the weather. Earlier that afternoon, I had been fortunate enough to find a set of furs stuffed at the bottom of the pack the Durin heirs had given me, the pelt now wrapped around my shoulders, crossing over my chest in an 'x' formation.

"When do you think we will stop for rest?" I asked the dwarf behind me, trying not to let my desperation show. I was a medical student, not a fighter or warrior princess. All I wanted was to be warm, fed, and safe.

"Not soon enough," murmured Kili, his words caught in the wind.

We continued to trek through the lands for what seemed like forever, though Ori assured me it had been just under six hours. We came across a small property in ruins, the structure unstable and ripped apart by something much larger than any of our band.

Thorin rode to the top of the hill, steering his horse with ease, looking back at us with a firm nod. "We will camp here for the night," he announced. "Fili, Kili, look after the ponies. Make sure you stay with them."

_Good luck with that._

I hadn't noticed Kili had jumped off the pony till his fingers tugged at my own, helping me down from the horse; I was too busy watching as Gandalf surveyed the area, the wizard frowning and muttering to himself.

And from my place at the bottom of the hill, I could still hear the wizard. "A farmer and his family used to live here."

Thorin was still barking orders at his men, instructing them to start the fire and to help set up camp. His eyes travelled across the group before resting on me. I stared back at him, wondering what he wanted me to do, but it was Gandalf who urged me forward.

"Do we rest here for the evening?" asked the wizard, looking down at me with interest, his voice laced with interest.

We had moved away from the others, conversing in low murmurs.

"Yes-"

"And is it safe?"

I didn't know how to respond. "You have to leave," I said, avoiding giving the wizard a direct answer, for I found that, when I tried, I couldn't think of what to say. "For a short while. But you come back. And then it is safe." The unspoken truth was hidden in my words. _We're far safer with _you, _Gandalf. _

And with a nod and a heavy sigh, the grey-haired man collected himself. "I think it would be wiser to move on," he declared, moving away from me to stand by Thorin. I watched the interaction with interest, wondering what Gandalf would do now I had told him. "We could make for the Hidden Valley-"

Thorin shook his head. "I have told you already, I will _not_ go near that place."

"Why not? The elves could help us! We could get food, rest, advice-"

The Hidden Valley was suddenly a lot more appealing to my empty stomach and exhausted mind.

"I do not need their advice-"

"We have a map we cannot read. Lord Elrond could help us-"

"Help?" repeated Thorin, snarling. "A dragon attacks Erebor. What help came from the elves?"

Realising that the two would soon have a full blown argument, and that Gandalf would leave, I backed away from the bickering pair and instead opted to help Bombur and Nori prepare the evening meal.

"Is he coming back?" whispered Bilbo, shaking his head, looking from Balin to the other dwarves as Gandalf stormed past.

And before I could help it, I nodded my head, sending him a grim smile. _Eventually. _It was as though the hobbit had asked me whether or not is was going to rain, and I had already read the forecast.

Balin turned to me, interest apparent on his face. "And if you don't mind me asking, Hannah, how can you be so sure?"

I nearly shrugged my shoulders. "I suppose I just am."

"Seeing again, Han?" laughed Kili, he and his brother tending to the horses.

I frowned.

My plan of acting ignorant to the goings on around me was failing beautifully. Gandalf would be so proud.

* * *

**A short chapter, though lots more to come in the next one :) **

**A huge thank you to each of you for all the kind words you've given me! Please continue to review. Hopefully another chapter will be uploaded tonight :)! **


	9. Chapter 8

**_Lost _by_ LittleApril - Chapter Eight_**

Dinner was a languid affair. Each dwarf left by the hillside occupied themselves in the planning and preparation of the meal. Ori and Bofur cut the meat. Balin and Bifur started the fire. Thorin and Dwalin had headed to the right of our camp, talking, yet again, in hushed whispers. Fili and Kili had left to watch the horses. The rest of us stood in silence, warming our frozen fingertips by the fire.

"Here," said Bofur a moment later. He held a bowl of _something_ in his hands. It was brown coated with bits of chopped meat - a sort of gravy. The dwarf smiled at me, coaxing me to take the bowl. He recognised the look of disgust on my face and laughed. "It's all we've got, I'm afraid."

A hum left my lips, and I accepted the bowl with a nod of thanks. It was better than nothing. And my stomach had been growling all afternoon, pleading for some kind of sustenance.

"He's been gone a long time," mentioned the hobbit, pacing back and forth.

"Who?" asked Bifur, ladling more of the stock into the bowls.

Bilbo shot him a look of disbelief. "Gandalf," he said.

Catching my eye, Bifur rolled his. "He's a wizard!" He said, as though that explained everything. And, in a way, it did. "He does as he chooses. Here," he loaded a second bowl in my hand, and two in Bilbo's, "do us a favour. Take these to the lads." And with that he turned back to the pot, slapping away Bombur's greedy hands. "Stop it! You've had enough." The larger of the two dwarves had already gobbled up three helpings of the stuff.

"Right," said Bilbo, clutching the bowls to his middle. "Where are they?"

"Through the clearing. Keeping watch." _Sort of._ My feet led me toward the dell, branches and leaves cracking and crunching beneath my heavy boots. We crept closer, past the first six ponies, and I bobbed my head as I counted them. _Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen…. _Brilliant.

I suddenly stopped in my tracks, Bilbo crashing into my back. _Trolls. _I was going to face three mountain trolls. "Bilbo," I whispered.

"Yes? What is it? Why did you stop?"

"Pinch me."

"I beg your pardon? You want me to what-"

"_Pinch me,_" I repeated through gritted teeth. _Was he deaf? _

"Oh," fumbled the little man. "Are you… Are you quite sure?"

"Just do it!"

And his fingers gripped the flesh of my arm and he gripped my skin so tight I thought I would scream. I held back the mewl in my throat, dropping my bowl of stew on the wet earth, and stared at him incredulously. "You didn't have to do it that hard!" I all but whispered, clutching the offended limb like one would with a baby.

He was still fumbling, opening his mouth, not knowing how to reply. "I did as you asked!"

"Bilbo, that really hurt! I'm going to have a bruise tomorrow!"

Looking back, that ought to have been my first clue. At the time, I was too busy complaining, staring down at the dull red mark on my wrist.

We entered the clearing together, my dinner lost on the ground, Bilbo still hanging onto his two bowls. Pressing a finger to my lips, I gestured for him to be quiet and we trekked forward in search of the two brothers, pushing past bushes and brambles. We found them, as Bilbo had done in the film, staring out at the group of horses behind a fallen tree. Bilbo, still quite flummoxed as to why I had asked him to pinch me, shuffled between the brothers. Following his lead, I decided to stand to the left, shoulder to chest with the eldest of the two.

Fili looked down at me, his lips set in a frown, before lifting his head to look back at the remaining horses.

I couldn't stop myself from thinking that it was stupid of him to glare at me when _he was_ the one to have lost the horses.

Bilbo looked between the brothers, trying to understand their unease. "…What's the matter?"

Kili's voice was emotionless, trying not to let his discomfort show. "We're supposed to be looking after the ponies," he responded, not daring to look away from the rest of the animals.

"Only we've encountered a slight problem," continued Fili.

"We had," muttered Kili, "sixteen."

"And now there's fourteen."

Have you ever thought of something highly inappropriate at the worst time? Ever laughed when someone was crying? I had one of those moments. And I snorted at the scene, biting my lip to keep from laughing. _What on earth had they been doing to not realise _mountain trolls_ had stolen the horses? _I mean really.

If Kili had heard my snort, he had enough grace to ignore it. Bilbo stared at me, still confused, and Fili merely glared.

"Daisy and Bungle are missing." Kili had counted the horses again, checking off which two were missing.

"Well," began Bilbo, following after the three of us with those bloody bowls. I gestured to him to put them down, but he ignored me. "That's not good." _Were all of the company competing to be next year's Captain Obvious? _"Shouldn't we tell Thorin?"

I opened my mouth to say "Yes", but the brothers shot me a look.

Fili sighed, shaking his head. "No. Let's not worry him. As our official burglar," he said, throwing a fleeting glance my way as if to say _and what do you bring to this group?, _"we thought you might like to look into it."

"Well, uh," said Bilbo, stumbling, gesturing to the fallen trees. "It looks like something, uh, big uprooted these trees."

_So far Bilbo was winning._

"That was our thinking."

_Look out, Baggins. It looks like one of the Durin brothers is out to take your crown. _

Durin Brothers. Crown.

Sometimes I was just too witty.

"And something _very_ big," _and back to you, Bilbo, _"and possibly quite dangerous."

_Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner, ladies and gentlemen._

"Hey," muttered Fili, staring out. "There's a light! Over here!"

A hand shot out and gripped my arm, telling me, "Stay down."

The four of us edged forward, ducking behind a second tree trunk. The sounds and the smell of the trolls soon filled our senses, and I coughed into my hand, pinching my nose with my fingers. Fili, again, shot me a look telling me to be quiet. I merely glowered at him in response.

"What is it?"

"Trolls," spat Kili, glaring at the area from which the noise had sounded.

The three men took off running, hoping to get a glimpse of the foul beasts. And, stupidly, I hurried after them. It was only when Bilbo turned back to get the dinner I smacked his arm. "Would you leave the food?" I hissed. "There are more important matters right now!"

"Yes, yes. Quite right, Han-" And yet he still hadn't let go of the pots.

_"Just leave them!" _

This time we found ourselves hiding behind a large rock, one of the trolls stomping past, _two_ more of our horses snatched in his grubby hands. I looked at the brothers. "See, _now_ we've lost two more. Were you both asleep?"

"He's got Myrtle and Minty!"

What did it bother? If this dream state was going to follow the film, we'd lose all the horses in a matter of thirty minutes or less.

"I think they're going to eat them," declared Bilbo. "We've got to do something!"

A lightbulb seemed to click on in Kili's head. "Yes. You should!" And he stood, taking the bowls of stew from the hobbits hands. I blinked. _Had he snatched them up again? _"Mountain trolls," explained Kili, "are slow and stupid." _A bit like you and your brother, then. _"And you're so small, they'll-"

"Me?" laughed Bilbo, "No. No. No."

"-never see you! You'll be perfectly safe! We'll be right behind you!"

I folded my arms across my chest, listening and shaking my head.

"If you run into trouble," advised Fili, "hoot twice like a barn owl, once like a brown owl."

The hobbit repeated the advice, stumbling forward toward the inevitable danger.

I turned to look at the brothers. "You may as well have pushed him off a cliff," I told them.

Kili nodded his head. "You're right." He looked to his brother for guidance. "Should we tell Thorin?"

"Probably not," I muttered, "but you're going to anyway."

Was there something wrong with me? Why couldn't I keep my mouth shut? I was tempted to take the needle and thread I had seen Balin mending his cloak with earlier that day and push it through my lips. Sensing the stares the brothers sent my way, I attempted to laugh it off. "Do you not think your uncle is going to miss four of his horses_ and_ his burglar?"

"You're right." The look on Fili's face told me he wasn't happy about my being right at all. "Stay here-"

"We can't leave her," argued Kili. "It's not safe-"

_So now he realises._

"Fine," muttered Fili, sharing a secretive look with his brother. "You stay with the girl. I'll get the others."

And having said that, the blonde hurried from our hiding place, dashing through the trees and the wilds, making haste toward camp.

A moment of silence. "This will not end well," he muttered finally.

_Not for you._

I was on my knees before I knew what had happened, clutching my stomach and gasping for air. My muscles contracted, my breathing became erratic, and it felt as though I had had the wind knocked out of me. All I could see was Kili kneeling in front of me, his hand on my arm, but as he touched my skin, the flesh on his arm began to shred. And the bile rose up my throat and I heaved. Nothing came out, for my stomach was empty and my dinner was strewn across the forest floor, but I couldn't bring myself to look at the dwarf prince, too scared of what I would see.

And I pleaded with myself to wake up before any of it became real, before I had to see both brothers lying beside their defeated uncle, side-by-side together, as always, even in death.

* * *

**Please review!**


	10. Chapter 9

**_Lost _by_ LittleApril - Chapter Nine_**

The pain subsided after a short moment. I was able to stand, waving away the hand that was trying to steady me. My breathing was heavy, and I refused to look the heir of Durin in the eye. _What was going on?_ Why did it hurt to think of the book? It was inevitable. The Battle of Five Armies would happen, and the three would perish. There was nothing I could do. It wasn't as though anything I did in this world would have much effect. Who was I to mess with Tolkein's world? With _their_ world?

Kili released his grip on my arm a second later, satisfied. "Are you ill?"

I shook my head. "It's Bilbo we have to worry about. Not me."

The dwarf nodded and he crept forward, peering through the thick bracken. "Fili will have gathered the others." His eyes swept around the clearing where the trolls had made camp. "We'll wait for their lead."

I had already seen all of this before, of course, and knew that, soon, Bilbo, covered in snot and grime, would be pulled from his hiding place and nearly torn to shreds by the three bumbling creatures.

"Kili," I had muttered, watching as the first troll began to hold back a sneeze, "I don't think we have time to wait for them-"

And I was right. Less than a second later, the troll reached behind him and snatched his handkerchief, blowing his nose into the cloth and unknowingly onto the hobbit nestled between the layers of cloth. The troll jolted back in surprise and cried out something unintelligible.

_"Blimey! Look!"_ shouted the troll. _"Look what's come out of my hooter! It's got arms and legs and everything!" _

The other trolls peered down at the terrified hobbit, and I watched as Kili unsheathed his sword and gripped it tightly in his hands. _So much for waiting for Thorin. _"Han," murmured Kili, not bothering to turn to look at me. His eyes were trained on Bilbo. "You stay hidden. Wait for the others."

"You must be joking," I muttered back, knowing that if I stayed put I would most likely be squashed beneath a stampede of clumsily trolls. "Kili, no-"

The dwarf said nothing, but he shot me a look that told me to, quite simply, stay put. In turn, I glared at him.

_"What is it?_" grunted one of the trolls, his voice gravelly and low.

_"I dunno!" _replied the first troll, voice shaky. _"But I don't like the way it wriggles around!"_

And with that, Bilbo was dropped unceremoniously onto the wet forest ground.

_"What are you, then? An over-sized squirrel?" _

Bilbo's answer came out as a stutter. "I'm… I'm a burglar! A hobbit!" He corrected, quickly.

_"A burglar'obbit?" _

_"Can we cook him?" _

_"We can try!"_

Bilbo raced from side to side, in and out behind the legs of the trolls, past the fat and thick fingers that tried to snatch him up.

_"He wouldn't make more than a mouthful! Not when he's skinned and boned!"_

_"Are there any more burglar'obbits around these parts? Might be enough for a pie!"_

_"It's too quick!"_

_"Gotcha!" _

The second troll had caught the frightened hobbit, holding him aloft with two fingers. I tuned out the rest of the conversation, too busy trying to pull Kili back from rushing forward. Maybe if we waited just a moment or two, the rest of the company would appear and we wouldn't land ourselves in empty potato sacks, ready to be spit-roasted by the trolls. "You can't go in there alone," I hissed to the dwarf, knowing that his recklessness would, eventually, get him killed.

But Kili paid me no attention, and with a battle-cry he cut and hacked his way through the bracken, pushing himself into the clearing, leaving me hiding behind the bushes watching the scene unfold.

The dwarf brandished his sword, and ordered, "Drop him!"

_"You what?" _

"I said," repeated Kili, wielding his weaponry, "_drop _him_!"_

The shouts and cries of the rest of the company filled my ears, and I turned to look behind me as the dwarfs came running forward, waving their swords and axes, Thorin in the lead, Fili not close behind, each member of the legendary company eager to defeat the trolls and rescue their burglar. The group ran in front of me and I made to follow, but a _second_ dwarf pushed me back.

"Stay behind," instructed Fili, shaking his head as I opened my mouth to protest. "This is no place for a girl." But then he, like his brother and the other dwarves, had gone off into battle.

_This is absolutely stupid, _I raged in my mind, biting my lip to shout obscene things at the company. Were all dwarves this bloody sexist? Sighing, I folded my arms across my chest, knowing that, soon, the group would need me. _Someone_ had to remind them that having _parasites _is a good thing - it stops you from being killed.

The battle raged on, Dwalin jabbing and hacking, Ori slingshotting the trolls away, Thorin slicing and stabbing, Fili carving and severing.

And Bilbo still trying to untie the bloody horses.

Before he was caught, that is.

"Bilbo!" yelled Kili, starting forward. Thorin pushed him back. And I watched as Fili turned to look at the bushes behind them, his eyes finding mine in the darkness, and he nodded. _What is that supposed to mean? _

_"Lay down your arms! Or we'll whip his off!" _

Thorin dug his sword into the ground, and the remaining dwarves followed suit. The group were eagerly snatched up in the grubby hands of the trolls and dumped, one by one, into the sacks, bound by thick rope. The trolls then picked five or six of the now bound dwarves and fastened them to the fire structure, roasting them with each turn.

By the bushes, I was having an internal struggle. Was I supposed to help them? What was I supposed to do? What was that look that Fili shot me? Was it a "stay hidden, you bumbling girl" or a plea for help?

If there is one thing you ought to know about me, it is that I get _restless_ not doing anything. I like to help. I love to help. I was _born_ to help. That is why I had always wanted to be a doctor. I liked helping people. I can't sit idly and watch people be hurt. I couldn't stand behind the bracken and not do anything. And I'll admit that what I did _was_ rather foolish, and I still cringe to this day, and that the looks the would-be King of Durin sent me for the following few days were glares, but I had to do it.

I was compelled to do it.

And as Bilbo pleaded and tried to deceive the trolls, I searched the nearby forest floor for a rock large enough to throw into the group.

"With the seasoning!"

_"What about the seasoning?_"

"Well," said Bilbo, growing more and more confident with each word, "have you _smelt_ them? You're going to need something larger than sage before you plate this lot up!"

And even from behind the bushes, I was still able to hear Kili's cry of "_Traitor!"_

Knowing what was to follow, I found a rock light enough to hold and I threw it into the clearing. It rolled and tumbled toward the group, but the sound of it falling and hitting the earth was lost in the chaos that was Bilbo Baggins and his ideas.

_"What do you know about cooking dwarf?"_

I began the search for a second stone.

"The, uh, the secret, to, uh, cooking dwarf is," began the hobbit, stumbling now. "It's, uh," continued Bilbo, ignoring the shouts of the dwarves, "is to… The secret is to… to skin them first!"

More cries of denial and rage. I had found four rocks, three quite large, one rather small. I hefted the small rock in my arm and threw it, like before, into the den. Nothing happened. It merely rolled to the side.

_I really had to get better aim and height on those things._

Bombur had been pulled from the group, dangling dangerously close to the open mouth of the biggest troll.

"Not that one! He… He's infected! He's got worms… in his tubes!"

The trolls made a noise of disgust, and the heavy dwarf slipped from the grip of the troll and landed with a thump on top of his companions.

"In fact," announced Bilbo, "they all have. They're infested with parasites! It's a terrible business. I wouldn't risk it. I really wouldn't."

"Parasites?" cried Oin. "Did he say we have parasites?"

"We don't have parasites!" shouted Kili, highly affronted. "_You_ have parasites!"

And having heard enough, I hefted a third rock and lobbed it into the group, it landing, with a rather large thump, on Thorin Oakenshield's head.

_Crap._

Thorin turned his head to stare into the trees and, though I was sure he couldn't see me, it felt as though his glare was directed to the exact spot upon which I stood. It did, however, work. He delivered a swift kick in his nephew's direction and soon the group were all complaining of being riddled with parasites and other ghastly creatures.

And that, everyone, is how I, Hannah Elizabeth Rogers, saved the group of dwarves from being eaten by a pack of lousy, smelly trolls.

With a little of Gandalf's help, of course.

And from them on, life in the group changed. There were no more glares from Fili, no questions asked of London or of my suspicious homeland.

Because what was it that J. K. Rowling had said?

_There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them._

And the same rule applied in Middle-earth.

* * *

**Apologies for the week long delay! **

**A lot has happened this week and this chapter was giving me a bit of trouble. On Monday, I found out that I have been accepted by the University I was hoping to go to do my postgrad studies in teaching and become a Primary (Elementary School) teacher, so I'm really pleased with that! Also... my MacBook has died, again, so this had to be written on my iPhone. **

**A huge thank you to everyone for your continued support - please continue to review, follow, and favourite! **


	11. Chapter 11

**_Lost _by_ LittleApril - Chapter Nine_**

_There was that noise again. The slow and steady thump of the cardiac monitor. My eyelids were heavy, as though they had been glued shut, and sleep began to claim my mind and my body. _

_"Hannah? Is everything OK?"_

_My eyelids snapped open, and I stared at the other trainee, offering her a tired smile. "Everything's fine, Claire. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night."_

_The blonde smiled and nodded her head. "Still sleep-walking?"_

_"As always," I muttered, checking off another patient's medical status. "What time is it?"_

_"Two-thirty in the morning. Ready to go home?"_

_I tried not to let my desperation show. "God yes," I said, biting my lip to fight back a yawn. "I don't think Dr. Tanner will take kindly to me sleeping in the break room again._

_Claire laughed, but no sound left her mouth. I stared at her lips, trying to understand the words she was forming, but I couldn't. _

_Her voice had transformed into something much more masculine, something rougher and firmer, and it repeated my name._

_"Hannah?"_

_"Hannah?"_

_"Hannah?"_

"Han?"

My eyes blinked open and, with a start, I realised I had fallen asleep resting against one of the large boulders that sat outside the trolls' cave. The stench of the cave had had me gagging, and I had told the others I would stay outside, keeping watch, whilst they raided the cavern for what treasures they could find. Besides, I knew what they would find: swords and daggers, jewels and coins. Nothing I was terribly interested in. I had no use for it.

Fili stood before me, his posture stiff, his eyes staring down at me with a look I couldn't comprehend.

"Sorry," I muttered, attempting to righten myself. "I must've fallen asleep."

"Gandalf has asked for you."

I followed his line of sight back toward the cave. "To the troll hoard?"

He nodded. And he led the way forward, not saying much as was typical of the brother, and gestured for me to walk ahead toward the towering form of the wizard clothed in grey. I was unsteady on my feet, nearly tripping over the jewels and chests, meeting Gandalf by the far end of the cavern with a confused frown upon my face. "Gandalf?"

"Ah, yes," hummed the wizard. My frown deepened with his mumblings. "I have found something for you."

"For me?" I whispered back, trying to keep our conversation as low as possible. "I don't need anything-" But before I could finish my words, the wizard presented me with a fine silver blade no longer than the size of my palm. It was encrusted with delicate jade stones at the shaft, glittering in the firelight of the dwarves' torches. I turned the dagger in my hands. "It's very pretty," I conceded, "but I don't know how to fight-"

"But something tells me you do," argued Gandalf, looking me in the eye.

I shook my head. "I know how to stitch someone or something back together, but not to maim or to…" The words died on the tip of my tongue, and I finally realised that it wasn't what Gandalf _was_ saying, it was what he _wasn't_ saying. A riddle of sorts. "And if I know how to save someone," I said, nodding my head, "I know how to _not_ save someone."

Gandalf turned his head from me, now far too interested in the sword that Thorin had plucked from the collection. He walked forward, leaving me clutching the blade between my fingers.

"What is it you found?"

Fili, again, but this time his brother stood beside him.

"A dagger."

"A fine blade and point," muttered Kili, dark eyes studying the weapon with thought. "Expensive too."

"You know how to fight?"

I shook my head. "Not one bit."

Kili bowed his head. "Then let us hope you never have to use it."

* * *

We exited the cave minutes later, the blade now settled on my waist, tucked beneath the layers of clothing. I walked beside the two Durin brothers, our footsteps hurried, and jumped as Thorin bellowed for our group to band together. The trees and bushes surrounding the cave shook as something, or rather some_one,_ raced through the forest, and I stood back, pulling Fili and Kili with me, their weapons drawn, as Radagast the Brown emerged with his group of rabbits.

Knowing that it was just Radagast, and that he had always been a favourite of mine, I made to move forward, but Fili's hand enveloped my wrist and he pushed me back, forcing me to stumble and nearly drop my blade on the ground. My brows contorted. _What happened to him detesting me? Oh,_ I thought. _Trolls. _

"Radagast," cried Gandalf, stepping forward, sheathing his blade. "Radagast the Brown," he announced, stomping forward to greet his old friend. "What on _earth _are you doing here?"

It was only then that Fili let go of my wrist, and I looked down to find my wrist was now marked with red from the dwarf's grip.

"This is the wizard Gandalf spoke of?" questioned Fili, looking at the peculiar looking man with interest.

"I suppose," muttered Kili, his eyes trained on the two wizards. "Did you see this, Han?"

"What?" I had been far too interested in watching Thorin's facial expressions. He was too proud. His biggest fault. "Sorry. What did you say?"

Kili's upper lip twitched in slight amusement as he repeated the question.

I merely offered him a glare and stomped away to stand by Balin and Bofur. My arms were folded across my chest and, as the others talked, I realised just how cold it was. My teeth nearly chattered in the cold air, and I slipped Bofur a short smile as he turned to look at me.

The peace in our band was soon interrupted by the sound of a howl piercing the air.

It was Bilbo's turn to question Gandalf. "Was that a wolf?" he asked. "Are there wolves out there?"

How was it that I had completely forgotten about this scene? I had relaxed when a _Warg_ was tracking us.

"Wolves?" repeated Bofur, stepping forward. "No," he said. "That is not a wolf!"

And it leapt out from the thickets and trees behind the group, snarling and snapping its jaws at its prey. Our group jumped back, frightened with weapons drawn, and Thorin's sword sliced through the belly of the beast, but another came running through the trees, and this time it was Kili's arrow that pierced the monster's eye, and Dwalin's weapon that silenced the animal.

"Warg scouts!" cried Thorin, retrieving his blade from the stomach of the slain Warg. "Which means an Orc pack is not far behind!"

"Orc pack?" repeated Bilbo, aghast.

"Who did you tell about your quest beyond your kin?" demanded Gandalf, striding forward.

Whilst the others argued, and Kili's eyes swept over the group before landing on my shaking form, I prepared myself for flight. I knew we had to run and that, even thought this was just a dream, I didn't want to die here. I didn't want to be so _useless. _And so I grabbed the blade Gandalf had presented me with, tightened the cloak around my shoulders, and gripped the dagger in my hands, ready to run. It was then that I looked back up to see that Kili hadn't taken his eyes off of my form, and he nodded.

His look said everything.

_"We have to get out of here!" _announced Dwalin, voice rough and determined.

_"We can't!" _cried Ori, reappearing from the rocks behind the group._ "We have no ponies!"_

"Then we'll run!" I shouted back at him. The words had left my mouth before I could stop them, and I waited for someone to tell me I was wrong, but the rest of the group heeded my words.

All we could do was run.


End file.
